


The Wedding Trip

by MavenOReilly



Category: Emma (2020), Emma (TV 2009), Emma - Jane Austen
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23426104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MavenOReilly/pseuds/MavenOReilly
Summary: Writing what Austen couldn'tTracking Emma and Knightley's wedding preparations and honeymoon. I think they are interesting because they are such good friends but their relationship is ever evolvingHope you enjoy
Relationships: George Knightley/Emma Woodhouse
Comments: 21
Kudos: 178





	1. Leaving Hartfield

Mr Knightley handed the new Mrs Knightley into the coach. He paused for a moment allowing her to make herself comfortable before carefully climbing in himself. Once he took his place by her side, his gloved hand took up hers; they smiled at one another with a mixture of contentment and exhilaration.

As the coach and horses pull away from outside Hartfield, they lurched back in their seats and then immediately turned around to wave goodbye to the gathered party out of the back window. At the centre stood Emma’s father, Henry Woodhouse. He looked grieved indeed; wrapped around him was the comforting arm of Emma’s sister Isabella. Mr John Knightley stood by, simultaneously waving and rolling his eyes at the spectacle of his father in law weeping.

Emma knew that this was as it must be. There was two things Mr Woodhouse dreaded most in the world: Her marriage and her leaving Hartfield, however indefinitely. She had prepared herself for this reaction in advance and as the coach sped away, she resolutely returned to her forward-facing position.

“I know you must be worried about your father,” spoke Mr Knightley with a look of concern, “but you can rely on it that Isabella and John will take the very best care of him. He may not be merry, whilst we are away, but he will be comforted.”

Emma nodded her head in assent and squeezed his hand. “I know George, I expected these emotions. I could not wish for better company for my father, whilst we are away”.

‘George’, to call him George and not Mr Knightley had not lost its novelty. She did confess that she truly loved the sensation of every time it left her lips and was easily convinced to take up this most personal address when he entreated her to do so shortly after they became engaged.

She gazed out of the window, as the coach trundled along. ‘Where are we going? Will you tell me now?’

Mr Knightley pulled a coy smile and laughed. “No, my dear, you must wait to find out. It is all arranged and very much a surprise.” 

She pulled a disgruntled face and to distract her, he said, “Why, my dearest Emma, are you not tired? This day is not yet much past noon and yet look at the momentous moments that we have lived through.”

“I confess,” said she, “It has all progressed at such a pace, I have scarce had a moment to draw breath and contemplate.”  
He looked down at her and brushed her lips with a soft kiss. “I hope you feel as very happy as I. It feels like a dream, a dream that was always meant to be and yet I know there have been times where this couldn’t be further from the truth.’

“Oh, I could not be happier,” said she, as she smiled broadly at her treasured husband and friend, kissing his hand and then his lips. “We must take time to allow it to settle and enjoy this feeling of felicity.”

“I own we must,” he said in reply and drew her closer, kissing her tenderly. Stroking her cheeks with his thumbs as he cupped her face with his hands. Joy built in her heart and multiplied throughout her body. This love, thought she, ‘I am so very lucky to have this love’.


	2. Remembering the Wedding

The day had indeed, been a flurry of actions. Their marriage has occurred at the church nearest Hartfield at 10 am in the morning. Neither herself nor Mr Knightley considering acquiring a licence the proper thing for them. Her father had fussed constantly in the previous days; his anxiety peaked by her coming displacement. He understood well enough the immense sacrifice Knightley was making by quitting Donwell Abbey: he esteemed him greatly. And yet, the fact remained that he did not want to share Emma, as he had not wanted to share Isabella before her. Emma was excessively glad when Isabella and John arrived with the children. Isabella’s character being so like Mr Woodhouse, they could focus on his fear of drafts and ailments together. Isabella was able to cosset him, like no one else she knew. 

She and George could have had a longer engagement; they could have taken more time to prepare her father. But what was the purpose of that? He would never really be prepared. What is more, they were impatient to make their understanding official. As soon as their news was known by their general acquaintance and they were no longer looked upon as brother and sister or impending spinster and confirmed bachelor; no, now they were watched like prey by hawks. So however, strong their amour, they had to content themselves with stolen kisses here, passionate embraces there. Meeting under the chestnut tree, in the hothouse, whilst Emma tended her precious flowers or stolen kisses in the library or outside, whilst their chaperones were unaware. Mrs Weston had become quite stern with her, once she saw the change in outward feelings between the two. 

“Now Emma, you know that it must be so!” Said she when Emma had tried to remonstrate with her. “You were always a stickler for the rules when it wasn’t you. It is not proper that you and Knightley are alone now it is clear that you must be man and wife. Your reputation is quite at stake.”

This was most challenging as the strength of their affections and the constant threat of being caught out meant they became evermore passionate. 

The speed of the banns being read, and the ceremony’s arrival had meant that she even questioned whether her dress could be made in time. She suspected that she may have to marry in one of her best muslin gowns like many other brides did. However, Fords had acquitted themselves most favourably and she found herself approaching the church in a beautiful silk gown complete with brand new petticoat underskirts; finally, she had a silver-grey pelisse in velvet to match and delicately decorated bonnet. She carried beautiful flowers that marked out the late spring, including some of the first roses from the hot house.

Any nerves she felt, steadied immediately at the sight of her husband-to-be, nervously stood at the alter before her. He looked everything a handsome man should be. Stood in his navy-blue tailcoat and tan breaches. His beautiful face exemplified by his cravat and marked out by the waistcoat he had chose for the occasion. An exquisite silk brocade in cream with a creeping cherry blossom embroidered into the fabric; It reminded her of some of the finest Chinoiseries wallpaper she has seen. As she approached the alter, she observed that he took a deep breath in and she realised that he too was nervous. However, her nerves and his were melted away the moment she arrived at the alter; he looked to her and their eyes met; he smiled at her and she saw his nerves quite melt away with the warmth and love he felt for her. First as the ceremony began, there was a short exchange between George and her father. Nothing was said, it was merely understood through their countenance towards each other. Then George wiped a tear from his eye, and he reached for her hand. Their skin tingled together as they connected in warm reassurance. Beyond that the vows proceeded quickly. Emma looked at George and repeated the words after Mr Elton. The emotion was such that she had to concentrate her focus on the words, as she was worried you might mispronounce them. She also was sure there was an arched look from George when she got to the words ‘Love, honour and obey’.

Before she knew where the time had gone, they were back at Hartfield for the Wedding Breakfast before they left on their trip.


	3. Warnings of the shape of things to come

They had been travelling some time along the dry roads of Surrey and Sussex. The constant motion of the coach had rocked Emma and Mr Knightley into a drowsy lull. They were happy in contented silence and Emma lent her head onto her new husbands’ shoulder and contemplated the view. She still was none the wiser where they were going, so she looked for clues in the landscape that might suggest their destination.

After some time, she became aware that George had drifted off to sleep. She took the advantage to watch him. ‘Mr Knightley’, asleep in front of her; It was truly miraculous to witness such an intimate act! As he slept, she watched his eye lids flicker slightly and his head lulled to once side. Emma supposed he must be dreaming. She sat up and traced his cheekbone with her fingers; His skin was soft and supple. Yet, as her finger dropped down his cheek, she felt where he must have shaved. This was a firmer and rougher. He looked so peaceful and his features were so relaxed. She fancied his lips had formed into a smile of sorts.  
It occurred to her that it would not be long before such intimacy was commonplace. Of course, tonight, wherever they may end up, would be her and George’s wedding night. A note of anxiety built within her stomach. 

Emma sat back and nestled into her sleeping husband; She counselled herself not to get overly anxious. It was natural to worry over the unknown and she must not make herself ill at ease. She turned her mind back to a tete a tete that she and Mrs Weston had when she visited Randells the previous week. Emma had been in Highbury making final wedding arrangements and had called on Mrs Weston. Mr Weston was happily from home, for the tone of the conversation that was to be had was distinctively intimate.

“Oh Emma, how delighted I am to see you!” Exclaimed Mrs Weston. “Come, do sit – I will ring for tea.”

She guided Emma through to the Parlour, where they seated themselves upon a sofa as the servants brought in the tea

“How well you look, Emma,” said Mrs Weston after admiring her former charge, “yes, I must say that this marriage to Mr Knightley is suiting you very well.  
“Thank you, that makes me most happy to hear,” replied Emma with a broad smile. “I cannot deny, I am very happy indeed and most impatient to become his wife.”  
“Yes, I see that," said Mrs Weston archly “Why else do you think we have kept you at a distance from him recently?”  
“Oh! You are impossible, Mrs Weston,” laughed Emma.  
“There is no point in denying it, Emma,” retorted Mrs Weston, “Why, I have seen how he looks at you and you at him. But oh, what delight when I realised!”  
Mrs Weston took Emma’s hand. “looking back, I should have known, when you danced together at the Crown Inn. The signs were all there! Oh, but I was so much taken up with the new baby and we were all so deceived by Frank!”  
“Well I hope you are quite happy with how things have turned out,” said Emma, attempting to console Mrs Weston, who appeared more than a little agitated.  
“Happy? I? oh I couldn’t be more so. Mr Knightley is just the man I would want to see you married to, my precious Emma! I just never realised before now that you feelings tended to one another as they do.”

Emma turned to pick up her tea and admired the many fancies that were presented on the plate in front of her, but before she could raise her cup, Mrs Weston abruptly stopped her.

“Now, my dear. I must speak with you on a serious matter,” Mrs Weston said with a frown, “I am the closest thing you have to a mother, and I have a duty to you to speak to you of your wedding night.”

For once Emma was quite agitated herself, but set her cup down, sat back and listened carefully.

Mrs Weston began with reassurance. “Mr Knightley is a true and kind gentleman; I am certain of that and you should be reassured by how evident it is that he loves you. Why? To quit, Donwell, to be sure!” 

Emma smiled “Oh yes, I am quite certain of his enduring attachment to me. We are both devoted to each other”

“Yes, but Emma, on your wedding night…. It is your role as his wife to submit to him as your husband; we are taught it says so in the Bible, you know…. He will come to you and you will consummate your marriage” By now Mrs Weston was stumbling over her words, trying to create sense out describing the impossible to someone unversed in the marital bed.  
“So as someone who has recently gone through the same, I must say to you Emma that you have nothing to fear from Mr Knightley” 

“I should say not! For Shame!” Cried Emma

“No, I pray, I am worried I am alarming you – let me explain further. At first, what happens…that is to say… It can be painful as first but when you love your partner in life Emma, it grows to be most pleasurable. Oh, what a mess I am making of this! I want you to know that, I know you may worry or feel nerves, but that it will become a most private joy between you and Mr Knightley”

Emma calmed and red faced nodded at Mrs Weston, quite dumbstruck.

“Now!” said Mrs Weston, “Let us drink some tea and talk about other things”


	4. Uncovering their destination

The carriage had been moving for what seemed like hours; the countryside was ever evolving in front of their eyes. Mr Knightley had awoken to find that Emma also had taken her chance to rest her head against him and enjoy the great luxury of slumbers next to her husband’s chest. The precious joy of this discovery, as he came to, produced the most substantial feeling within his heart. His features became aglow with the love and tenderness he felt for his wife. He brought his hand up to carefully stroke tendrils of hair away from her face; It was the first time he had fully been able to take advantage of examining the many different colours within her hair. He wondered at the softness and the texture enjoying the feeling its touch on his fingers. 

As he wound a strand gently round his finger, he blushed at the thoughts he was entertaining about his new wife. He Chastised himself for the desires that built up in his head after listing them to himself: Her loosen hair, exploring her form, tasting and savouring her body, the exquisite feeling of her body united with his. Despite spending much of his life in the country, Mr Knightley was very much a man of the world. At seven and thirty, he had had experiences of his own in his youth on the continent and in London and these experiences, he told himself were the natural course of growing up. As he had aged, he had become determined to wait for something of greater value, that was meaningful and loving. As part of his bachelorhood, he had resigned himself to the possibility of that never arriving and had found solace in his work and his own thoughts. For companionship he always had Mr Woodhouse and Emma. How could it be that after all these years, he felt these vivid strong feelings for Emma? The arrival and threat of Frank Churchill had certainly awoken them. Oh, how he worshipped her, loving her quirks and foibles as much as her beauty and spirit.  
For now, the most important thing was to arrive at their destination and allow them to properly spend time in each other’s company for the first chance they had gained in weeks. He wanted them to acclimatise to married life alone and without concerns from home to darken their door. No more chaperones and no more worries about reputations. Time would be on their side; they would slowly come to understand each other’s desires.

Emma awoke as the coach started to climb up hill and it took her a moment to comprehend where she was and what was happening. She sat up and looked up at George who gave her a comforting smile and took her hand in his and squeezed it with affection. After a short time, George pointed out of the coach window and Emma for the first time was able to actualise where they might be going.

“Oh, the seaside! She exclaimed, smiling at George with great joy, for he knew how much she wanted to visit the sea one day.

“Earlier I asked James to stop at a vantage point,” said Mr Knightley, “so that we can get out and see the view before descending to the town, I expect that will be some time soon.”

“Where are we?” Emma asked still trying to make out where in the country they might be.

“I have taken lodgings for us in Brighton,” Said Mr Knightley “Are you happy with my choice, my dearest Emma?”

“Oh, I am excessively happy!” She replied “I know not how long I have wanted to see the sea, but Brighton! I declare I could not be happier!”

Amongst the deep kiss that formed from their mutual joy, the coach came to a rather sudden and abrupt halt. Thus, a flustered Mr Knightley and Emma rearranged themselves in order to climb out and partake of the view. He helped Emma to climb down from the carriage and arm in arm they walked up the cliff path to be confronted by the glistening azure blue sea below them. The sea breeze fluttering their hair and clothes, as the warm late afternoon sun suffused them in its glow.

Before them was the town of Brighton with its grand buildings, churches and the Marine Pavilion. There were rows of town house rising into up the surrounding hills and, in the distance, Emma could make out fishing boats bobbing around on the sea as they returned to their retrospective moorings.  
Caught up with the beauty of what confronted her, Emma reached up to George and kissed him as if to replicate the beauty she saw before her between them. For some time, they stood on the clifftop bound to each other and they were conscious of how alive they felt. Their surroundings making it all the more sensual with the birdsong and the roaring tide hitting the pebble beach below as the wind fluttered around them in the warm sun.


	5. Brighton Lodgings

Mr Knightley had taken lodgings in a new development on Brighton’s Belle Vue Fields, happily placed in Clarence Square. Their rooms consisted of public rooms and private rooms; the address’s design was most befitting of their residency, being neither overly grand nor ostentatious, nor suggestion that they were staying somewhere below their station in life. In addition to this, Mr Knightley had sent a lady’s maid and valet with a number of other servants ahead to prepare the lodgings for them and ensure that all was well for their master and mistress. Clarence Square was prettily situated within rows of tall, whitewashed townhouses, all boasting fine windows and overlooking a pretty communal garden, which was demarcated with an ornate black iron fence running around the side to provide privacy for the occupants on their walks out.

Mr Knightley had hoped that these attentions, the close situation to the parade and promenade and the near proximity to town, would enhance their stay. He aspired to provide Emma with the opportunity to extend her horizons and stave off some of the stagnation she felt in Highbury. Why, perhaps, a visit to London could be a future scheme? Although, he was not clear how the obstacle of Mr Woodhouse could be dealt with at this present moment; for if they were to visit London, surely, they would stay with John and Isabella? So, who would take care of Mr Woodhouse in such a circumstance?

By the time they arrived at Clarence Square, the day had significantly advanced and as they arrived Emma looked at her husband and remarked,

“How long this day has been! I never knew how tiring travelling could be and with all the emotion of the day. George – you look quite tired my love, are you not hungry and thirsty also?”

“To be sure, Emma,” Mr Knightley replied tenderly, and then with smile “But I am impatient to hear your views on our temporary home!”

“I am very curious to find what you have been planning for us,” Emma said with vigour, “I wonder at how it looks inside? What the décor may be? What rooms there will be?”

“I confess I am a little nervous. You can be my severest critique!” replied Mr Knightley with a wry grin. “I have often been told never to challenge a lady’s taste on these matters.”

“Unless it is Mrs Elton’s” retorted Emma.

“Ah! Yes! There, certainly the taste can be in question or lack of it there of!” He cried.

“Well, shall we put yours to the test?” she suggested taking what could be suggested a rather sultry kiss.

“I will not quarrel with that!” Mr Knightley replied, taking her kisses and then drawing her out of the carriage and into the townhouse in front of them.

He guided her around the building showing her the formal rooms first, the dining room and withdrawing room, explaining where the servant’s lodgings were and she saw much to her approval. George drew much comfort from her exclamations; he received the validation his sought from her approval.

There was one moment of awkwardness for them, however, as he guided her round from room to room. He took her to a pretty, smaller parlour. There were pretty damask papers on the wall and a small stone fireplace in the wall, in front of which, was a sofa and two chairs. There were screens for the visage and to protect against drafts and against the walls was a fine inlayed side table, book cabinet and a delicate writing desk and chair. Excluding the door through which they had entered there were a further three: One was a jib door for servants to enter from; the other two were equally balanced on opposite sides of the room. After she had admired the room and the view from the window, George steered hers toward the one on the right. 

“Emma, this is to be your chamber. The other door leads to mine but if it please you… should I be so bold to say…. I would rather treat this chamber as ‘our bedroom’.” By this point, George was looking deep into her eyes, searching for acquiescence. 

Emma hesitated, unsure of the proper course or response, but equally distracted by the power in his eyes, and he dropped his eyes to the floor and then turn abruptly. Waving his arm as if to brush off the idea and adding,  
"It is no matter, truly Emma, this is too much!”

She took his hand, pulling him back gently to her and murmured close to him “Let us find our way through, this night?” Her eyes flicked up to his and he was placated by her certainty and purpose.

“A capital idea,” he murmured in response.


	6. Recovery from the day's events

In view of the unique circumstances of their first night, Mr Knightley had sent the servants away after the happy couple had changed from their travelling clothes. Save for the lady’s maid who was to return at an appointed hour to help make her mistress ready for bed. He persevered through his self-doubts and had brought to their private parlour a selection of wine, cold cuts, bread and cheese.  
Then they sat in front of the fire, talking and drinking, even making free to toast some of the bread with a little cheese on it. Without the continuous need to be ‘proper’, they relaxed into themselves. Old companions and lovers alike. They speculated on the individuals of Highbury; what might the different individual views of their union be? They knew they had enough friends for the consensus to be very positive, but were some surprised? Had some always suspected? With no one else to consult or concern them, they sat in on the sofa wrapped in each other’s arms and as the sun dipped below the horizon, silence fell between them as they watched the fire flicker before them. Emma and George slowly caressing and kissing each other but at one with their own thoughts. Privately both were feeling of anxiety; he was worrying about finding a suitable path for them both through their obligations without harming or scaring Emma. She was feeling nerves and having worries about inadequacy.

“What time is it my love?” Asked Emma

“I heard the church clock strike ten a short time ago, said Mr Knightley, “Let me check my pocket watch.” 

He sat up and Emma dislodged herself from the tangle of their limbs, so he could consult the time.

“It is late, perhaps we should move to your bedroom?” Said George “Cartwright will come to help you. I will go to my chamber to get ready and return to you presently”

His tone was reassuring, but to her he appeared to be slightly distant and distracted. 

In her chamber, her maid helped her remove her gown and her stays, followed by her boots and her silk stockings. Emma sat in her chair, a cacophony of emotions. She had thought about this moment often over the last few weeks and she knew she wanted this as her desire for him rose throughout her. Yet, she was fearful. Why was this? Mrs Weston’s words echoed in her mind and placated her somewhat, but equally, she became aware of her heart beating faster. She noticed a slight breathlessness and her own hands shaking. Was this a normal sensation? She chose to keep them folded on her lap to avoid her complicated feelings being too transparent and evident to the maid. She dared not even look up for fear that she would catch her knowing eye. 

In short, Emma was quite a different Emma within these moments. As nerve wracking as walking down the aisle was, Emma was used to performing in public and deporting herself with elegance and pride. But now she was moments away from the most intimate moment of her life and this had sent her into consternation. Once the maid had brushed and prepared her hair, she bid her mistress good night; Emma was left alone in the dimly lit chamber, waiting for him to arrive.

If anything, now, her pulse intensified. She began to feel panicked. Awash with the burning of anxiety, Emma got up to pace the chamber. Perhaps if she splashed her face with water it would calm her? She needed to wash herself anyway and so she poured water into the basin from the jug; taking the washcloth from the side of the basin, she started to cleanse herself of the day’s imprint. When finally, she finished, she started to walk back over to the chair where she had originally been sat, but was halted by sound of the door to the room opening, and at that moment, Mr Knightley stepped into the chamber.


	7. Revelation and Consummation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bumper chapter, I couldn't split it and it is pretty explicit.

She stood frozen in only her shift, her eyes wide open, her mouth slightly agape. The fabric of the shift was so thin that he undoubtedly could see the outline of her naked form, giving a tantalising taste of what was yet to come. Her blonde hair was down, reaching to just above her waist, and it must have appeared to him like a kind of golden halo, framing her face. The adrenaline of the moment coursed through her veins and she became a little feint of head. He stood there in the flickering candlelight and she was transfixed. Her eyes wandered across his upper body. Gone was his tailcoat, waistcoat and cravat; what was left was his shirt undone so that Emma could see his broad chest below. She wanted to move closer, to touch him, but found she was physically rooted to the floor. She gulped and was struck by how audible the noise was. Whilst, initially he had stood there awkwardly gazing at her and seemingly dumb struck, he quickly came to with a jolt.

He started in alarm “Emma, my dearest, are you quite well?” stepping forward to reach out to her. 

She grasped at his arms and looked up to his eyes and he took her in a comforting embrace 

“Oh yes, I am quite well George, to be sure.”

He searched her face as he spoke “But you look ill and so discomposed”

Nodding, Emma said “I dare say you will laugh at me, I have spent my life so headstrong, but I find myself quite anxious about this, our wedding night”

“I understand you” he said, “come sit a while, we must speak of this together” and led her back to the chair.

She sat and looked at him as he was now kneeling by her side; all the time his presence and reassurance bringing her back to herself.

“Emma, you have known me your whole life. You are not only my wife but my most valued friend. We are so lucky! Imagine the amount of men and women who must marry for more material concerns. Yet here we are already on such a footing intimacy and trust.”

She smiled at his earnest entreaty, but did not respond at first by word, only reaching out for his hand. "I fear I will not be good enough for you my love, I have no true idea of the ways of love, yet I am also scared.... I am scared it will hurt. I am scared because I do not know what will happen"

He pulled a face of slight disbelief “Emma, I love you! Ardently and with my whole soul. How can it ever be that you would not measure up to my passion for you? It is quite impossible. Let me reassure you! Nothing must happen tonight that you do not want, and I will be guided by your comfort alone. We will find what feels natural to us.”

“My love,” said Emma as she lifted her hands to his face and kissed him with a passion and vigour that surprised them both. How could she have ever felt a moments doubt? She was brought back to reality by the power of his words, the connection that they felt and their presence together. Passion and heat rose between them. Their tongues mingled and explored each other’s mouth, savouring each other’s taste and touch. They were teasing each other to go further; his hands that initially had been a steadying force, lightly caressing her arms as he had spoken, now began to search out new conquests by touching her through her thin shift. She moved down from the chair to kneel next to him, their bodies aligned perfectly in silent but passionate furtive prayer. When finally, they broke apart, both were out of breath from their intensity and the longing in each other their eyes could have lit a thousand fires.

“Well, I might say that there is nothing to worry about here based on this evidence!” smiled Mr Knightley but then he looked up at the bed and remarked “Although I must warn you, I do not intend to spend my wedding night on the floor, when we have a perfectly serviceable bed next to us”

Emma giggled in response but then she looked downwards for a moment to take in his manly shape afresh and announced, “Moreover, George, you are only half undressed”

“Why yes, I chose to leave on my trousers on, so as not to give you too much of a shock,” he laughed, “would it not have been too much to have been standing there in my shirt alone?”

She looked down at his bare feet and replied with mirth, “Well I must say in all these years, I have never seen your bare feet or shirt in such as state of undress, maybe I should sit down again?”

Only to be met with an arched eyebrow and a laconic grin, “Don’t you dare!”

She continued whilst giggling, “I think it is most unfair that you are more dressed than I. Most ungentlemanly, George. For shame!”

“Come, Emma. “and he stood up, stretched out his hands to her and guided her up to side of the bed. As she rose, he lifted her onto the bed so that now she was seated, and he was standing. The bed was high enough that he was able to remain standing between her legs, but they maintained similar heights. As he softly ran his finger along the ribbon that ran loosely ran around the neckline of the thin shift, he murmured, “You look beautiful in your shift and your beautiful hair loose like this. Truly, I have never seen you look so glowing a beautiful. How honoured I am that no other man will see you this way. You are forever mine.”

She kissed him tenderly, her eyes sparkled, and she revelled in this moment of adoration. So happy, so safe and so excited. Every nerve tingling in appreciation of each moment and each touch.

“Now,” he said with a saucy smile, “you must redress the balance.” and with that her guided her hands so that she unbuttoned his trousers on either side and allowed them to sag down onto the floor.

As she performed this action, Emma pressed her lips together to prevent her gasping as she first glimpsed Knightley’s manhood move below his shirt and she began to feel it press through against her shift. Both were red cheeked; they gazed into each other’s eyes with yearning. Time felt paused as they hesitated to savour the sensation of that moment; A critically balance on the cusp of desire and action.

And with a blink of an eye it was gone, as they finally gave in to the power that coursed between them. As his lips met hers, George pushed her back on the bed and covered her, pushing her legs apart with his knees. Their kiss became all consuming and their arousal total. She felt his hardness grow against her, showing her his need for her. As she became more acquainted with the idea, she began to revel in the idea of what effect she had on him. This was most satisfying to her.  
Simultaneously, she could feel her own personal wetness from arousal between her legs growing steadily. He moaned as he moved against her, travelling down her neck and chest with kisses that felt so sweet that she began to move with him. She knew not how, but her shift was quickly pull down from her shoulders and in one moment of pure ecstasy, George began to caress and kiss her breasts. She had never felt so exquisite and she let him know it as she gasped and moaned with joy. Emboldened by her forthright reaction, he went further softly biting her nipples and Emma sank her head back in exalted elation as he worshipped her.

She desired to feel his skin against hers. What sensation would that cause? “Take your shirt off, my love” she whispered between gasps of pleasure and he did as he was bid pulling it free over his head. She became aware that George, her Mr Knightley, was now completely naked and fully aroused between her legs. He returned to her mouth taking in the grin she showed him at the realisation and kissed her roughly. 

“I love you!” she mouthed into his kiss.

“And I you!” he responded raggedly.

Her hands started to roam and explore him. She rapidly found that he appreciated her administrations, moaning with pleasure and arching his head back even as she tried to graze her nails down his back.

“Emma, I can bare it no longer. It is time to try. Are you ready my love? He cried in clear desperation, “For if you say yes, there is no going back, and we will become coupled together.”

She looked up at him “I am not afraid, my love. If it feels half as good as this, I shall be very lucky”

He nodded and carefully he helped her re-position on the bed. Together, they removed what remained of her shift and he positioned himself. He ran the tip of his shaft against her moistened entrance and she moaned in appreciation at sensitivity of its touch. Then slowly he eased into her.

It hurt her at first and he stilled, carefully watching her reaction. But she looked up into his eyes and gave him a nod that told him he could start to move slowly. He did not take this for granted. He knew that this was the final moment of transformation. Emma was travelling from a maiden to a fully fledged woman and he was the catalyst to that moment. Nothing would ever be the same again after this moment between them. As he slowly began to move in and out of her, he was aware that she remained frozen. Her arms were still grasped tightly around him. He told himself that he would not lose control; He would let her guide him.

For Emma, the feeling was alien to anything she had ever felt before. But as he began to move, she marvelled at the amazing sensation she felt; she was bonded to him in a way she never could have conceived possible. She loosened her grasp, she looked up into his eyes and she began to meet his movements. Oh! The look in his eyes, she'd seen nothing like it before, even when they were at their most passionate in the past; the connection, the hunger and the depth was something truly amazing to her. For him, this was the cue he was awaiting. Now he started to move with greater rhythm and freedom and was met with Emma’s look of total wonderment. She started to cry out with pleasure as his own breathing became ragged and hitched.

“Oh, my Love!” he cried. His face became red as he became increasingly tense throughout his body. By now he was moving in out of with real force and every blow took him closer to some unknown destination. Emma loved watching him unravelling in her arms, feeling him inside of her and to force of his feelings for her.

As he hunched his back and pumped his final movements, he let out such a groan of pleasure as he collapsed down on her. Completely spent of anything sensical, they lay together for some time still coupled and recovering from their first taste of pleasure.


	8. A more intimate knowledge of myself

Emma had been sleeping but was roused by the church clock striking what must have been three in the morning. She was wrapped in a sheet with a coverlet other the top and next to her was her sleeping husband, George. He was lying on his front, with his arms splayed and mingled within the covers and Emma took the moment to sit up a little and observe his physic. She admired his svelte yet muscular body, the covers had dipped down his back and a glimpse of two perfectly rounded and firm buttocks revealed themselves. No wonder he was so fit, she pondered, for he is forever on foot or riding out. So, despite her chiding about his lack of use of the carriage, it certainly yielded some benefits to her. Perhaps it was prudent to stop commenting on that habit? She smirked to herself. On his back she noticed a mole, and she traced it gently with her hand. The she become emboldened and stoked the trace of his spine.  
He stirred, muttered and opened one eye in her direction. 

“There you are!” He remarked with a smile, half into the pillow

“Were you worried, Sir, that I should not be here?” Retorted she.

“No, I should hope not! We didn’t say a substantial amount before we went to sleep."

“I am sure it was a mixture of stupefaction, exhilaration and exhaustion.“

He lifted his head up and cocked it inquisitively towards her, then reached out to her to pull her into his embrace.

“Do you feel much changed?” He tentative asked.

“I can’t be sure. Yes and no. I feel I am quite contrary. In truth, I own, I had no idea what to expect.”

He pulled her into a slow, teasing kiss.

“Did you enjoy what happened my love?”

Emma blushed but smiled. “I did.” Then she paused holding her hand up as if there was more to come, “I think what I enjoyed most was how our joy was contained in every movement. It gave me great pleasure to see you so lost in me. And you, what about you?”

“I have never felt such exquisite pleasure in all my life” said he, looking deep into her eyes

Emma looked delighted but then a shadow of doubt crept over her face.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I have often wondered. You are seven and thirty …”

“Yes?”

“Did you never have any other kind of relations with a lady?”

Mr Knightley groaned inwardly and outwardly, this was not the question he either wanted for hear or answer.

“Oh Emma, I had hoped you would not ask such a thing, I… that is to say... there were once ladies; It was youthful lust and ignorance and that is all”

But by this point Emma had sat up and was pouting. 

“You are jealous! Are you not?” Exclaimed Mr Knightley.

“No, not at all, I must assure you” Emma sulked. “I suppose it is as well that someone was competent in these situations”

“Come Emma, you cannot seriously hold this against me. It was so long ago, and I promise there has been none in between. I am jealous of you; you have known none other than the purity of intimacy in love. I cannot claim that for myself and all because of my weaknesses in my youth. I would gladly trade the situation if I could, but you must know Emma that I never conceived this present situation in my mind. How ever could I possible see so much into the future?"

She was won round a little by this and Knightley saw it was time to affirm this and distract her from her thoughts.

“It seems that in my nerves and haste to consummate, you did not receive equal pleasure to my own. Let me show you how it is to feel that pleasure Emma?”

He drew her into a kiss, which sparked all the excitement of their previous endeavours. Lustily, they began to consume hungry kisses as if they would run out and slowly both lay down, with Emma on her back. It seemed to her that he was beginning to massage in a most intimate place with his fingers and the effect was quite mesmerising. At first, there were ripples of pleasure but as he continued as great dam of emotion burst forth within her. She quite lost track of what he was doing or even where she was, as she cried out and grasped the bed clothes to steady her. He brought her back again and again, so she was shaking with the magnitude of the pleasure he was inflicting on her.   
He hovered above her, teasing her wetness with his own defined hardness and want.

“I need you again, Emma” He spoke in lustful rasps and she most happily acquiesced pulling him forth into her. She was quick and knew by now what he was about.

“Oh George” She cried out again.

“Does it feel better, now?” He entreated.

“So much so, it is quite unlike anything else!” Emma gasped.

They started to move together in such an intense and sustained way that It was not long again till they both crumbled together in total exhaustion and ecstasy. Panting and holding on to each other, as the feeling of great joy ebbed through their bodies and left a feeling of utter contentment remaining. The change was so remarkable between them now, for Emma was so awakened to the possibility that nothing should ever be the same again.


	9. The morning after the night before

George Knightley had been awake a good while that morning, propped up in bed, he surveyed all and contemplated the turns his life had taken. How quick the change had been affected! There had been moments where he thought he would never be married. He met with pleasing women, but never one who produced the spark of desire that induced him to hanker after matrimony. Equally, there were moments where he had thought that he would never marry, if Emma would not have him, and he would choose to be alone. The piercing agony of not only realising his true feelings for her but witnessing the roguish Frank Churchill leading her astray was still fresh in his memory. How everyone talked of their union as a certainty, just as he came to acknowledge that she was the only woman that he could every marry. He found himself involuntarily clawing the covers of the bed at the thought of that fop, that braggard. How he loathed him! Not just because of his indecent moral code but because how close he had come to threatening all he held dear. He had yearned for her and he had faced the possibility of those feeling never being reciprocated. He had tried to forget her. He had tried to find alternatives, but he could not. She was the only one who evoked that love, that spark and that challenge within him.

Yet, here he was, the morning after his wedding, leisurely contemplating the swift changes that had taken place. From despair and hopelessness, he had succeeded where he thought he would not. Emma loved him as he loved her; a revelation that had been obscured by months of misunderstand, miscommunication and suspicion, now enshrined as the wonderful reality that it was.

The mid-morning sunlight drifted in through gaps in the heavy damask curtains. Beams of light fell on her arms, which lay askew and her golden hair, which tumbled over her shoulders. He was in no hurry to wake her; he would savour this feeling for as long as he possibly could. Such intimacy was only a fantasy for months in his mind. Something that he would only entertain, in the privacy of his bedchamber, and when the thoughts passed, they had left him feeling hollow and empty. If possible, lonelier than ever. Now he was bonded to her in a way he never fully anticipated could be. He was hers and she was his; they had experienced not merely a union in the sight of God but a union of body, mind, and soul. For that he would be forever thankful. The memory of exploring her body, the feeling of being at one with her and her coming apart at his touch last night lingered and played through his mind. He was astounded by her wonderment and need for him, but also how she became so comfortable and emboldened with him. It was beyond words.

Aside from exciting his need for her once again, he felt a rush of exhilaration and awash with feelings of adoration and tenderness. As he felt this, he reached over to caress her hair, softly and slowly. It felt cool to his touch, glossy and sensual as it slipped through his fingers. He smiled and sighed the sigh of a man who very content. He knew not how long he had watched her; the rise and fall of her rhythmic slow breathing, moving her chest. In this light she was the most beautiful sight he could ever behold and by and by, she stirred and rolled over. She was still asleep, but she was seeking him, and he felt himself melt like a pool of warming beeswax as she reached out her arms hugged him closer and nuzzled her head into his side. This was the most beautiful accolade, indeed; she was seeking his comfort in her sleep. He slowly eased his arms around her, resting them gently around her shoulders, and slowly, he brought his hand to reside upon the naked skin of her back. His face was full of apprehension, that he should not break the spell of this moment but rather maintain it for as long as it might be. And after a little time, where he was sure that he was not going to disturb her, he smiled once more, a deep smile of great joy, and openly exhaled with relief.

Finally, the nearest church clock rang the hour of noon. Mr Knightley chuckled to himself at the audacity of them still being abed, four and twenty hours after their wedding. The combined chiming of the clock and her husband’s mirth roused Emma from her slumber. She rose her head from his chest and opened her eyes fully to look up at him.

“Why good afternoon, Mrs Knightley, are you quite rested?”

“Afternoon? What time is it?”

“It has past noon!”

“You are mocking me!”

“I am in earnest, I promise you! There is no shame in it, Emma, when else can we succeed with such liberties? In any case, you were clearly so very fatigued”.

Emma smiled at her husband.

“We did have a very late night.”

He grinned in return.

“Aye and we were most active! But moreover, you have had so much to do of late, managing the wedding and your father too. It is little wonder that you should be so tired”

Emma sat up and coyly pulled the sheets around her. In the process she pulled them a little off George by accident exposing his naked body.

“Oh no! A little late for coyness now, is it not?” He laughed pulling them back. “And am I to catch a chill in the process?”

Emma retaliated and they set into tugging over the sheets between them, laughing as they went. When she found she could not get enough purchase nor satisfaction, she threw caution to one side and climbed up onto her husband so that she sat astride him. She had merely a fancy that this would settle the argument but quickly learnt that in fact, it stirred a deep and fascinating lust within him.

The look he gave her was like that of a hungry animal, had not eaten in an age. His hands teased up her naked upper body. His fingers splayed, as if he were searching for something. She arched her back in desire and moaned at his touch. She could feel him quiver beneath her and his manhood began to harden and move. He began to kiss and then suck her breast and by now she could feel a profound ache building from her base and emanating throughout her abdomen. She wanted him again; She wanted to feel him inside her again. The marked soreness she felt from last night’s unfamiliar activities was overridden by the profound desire she felt for him. Her hands lifted his face to hers and they kissed slowly as first, seeking out each other, rekindling the shared feel and taste, but then building to a great hunger and haste. She broke free of their kiss.

“Should I lie down?”

He looked surprised, his eyes searched her face trying to understand but he quickly comprehended and with it came a knowing look and an arched grin.

“Oh no, we will do very well as we are, although this will be a first for me too.”

“But how?”

“Let me show you” he replied, and he reached down and positioned himself under her. She nodded and resumed her kisses of him.

“Ready?” He asked through the kiss. “I think you may be ready?”

“Ready!” she affirmed with clarity.

And with that he eased into her. The look between them as he did this was like a dawning recollection. Eyes wide and lustful, both gasping at the pleasure of the tight and deep fit. He kissed her and rasped into her mouth

“My God, it is perfect. We fit together like two long lost puzzle pieces”

She moaned at this and responded “How could it take us till now to know such pleasure? All this time I have been wanting”

“You will want no more, my love! I promise you that! Now, let me guide you.”

He placed his hands on her hips and gentle motioned for her to move. “You see you are riding me, like I might ride my horse” he beamed at her through ragged breath, and closed his eyes to master the pleasure, as she started to rock up and down on him.

Emma knew not what to do. She loved the feeling, she loved him, she loved giving him pleasure, but she could not believe the action she was taking.

“Is this not frightfully improper?” She asserted as she continued the action, not stopping to see his response, eyes closing as pleasure moved through her.

“Oh yes!” said he “but who will know? Does it not feel good? You oversee me now, my beautiful wife, can you not feel the pleasure you bring us”

Emma most certainly could, she was climbing higher and higher within herself. He knew her too well. He knew she relished the control. The exquisite feeling every time she landed back on him was such that she was beginning to lose control, as if she were ascending an internal imaginary staircase within herself.

“More!” he begged, and she became even more animated in her movements.

By now George had laid back, reaching up and grasping her breasts with one hand and a steadying hand on her curved hips with the other, he looked up at his wife with total awe and veneration. This! This was simply beyond anything he had hoped for or that his mind had allowed him to conceive. He began to breath roughly and Emma saw he was beginning to climax, spurring her on to push herself as far as she could physically go. She felt exhilarated but also so incredibly liberated.

George willed himself back up, with one arm behind him to steady them and arm round her waist, he thrust into their last movements as they both came together, only fall upon each other and their pleasure ebbed and subsided. As they lay together, catching their breath with their limbs and body still entwined, George carefully stroked her hair behind her ear and smiled tenderly at her, his eyes twinkling.

“You make me so very happy, George!” Emma said. “I could not imagine being more agreeably gratified then now.”

“I was just thinking the same thing, Emma”, he replied, “I did not think it possible to love you more, but I declare that this morning, I love you more than you could ever imagine and more than ever before.”

And Emma, knew he really meant it.


End file.
